A Partridge In A Pear Tree
by slenderpanda597
Summary: Joe Maplin is on an economy drive, forcing him to open the camper over Christmas disguised as a festive healthy eating promotion, which only Peggy seems to be able to find amusement in.


(a/n – if you've got the blues, I've got some news – I've written a whole new fic for you! Cos the holidays rock, the holidays rock, the hi-de-hi-de-hi-de-holidays rock!)

A Partridge In A Pear Tree

"I still don't see why the tree has to have all of this fruit on it!" Peggy huffed as she strung some pears onto a large fir tree in the Hawaiian Ballroom at Maplin's Holiday Camp. Spike looked up from adding some figs onto a branch.

"Joe Maplin is on another economy drive, but he's disguising it as a healthy eating promotion over the Christmas period this year. That's why we're open – he needs the money." Peggy grinned at Spike as he answered her questions. She was glad when she got told that she was needed at the campsite for three weeks over the Christmas period. Work in domestic service was hard to find for just a few months, and whilst the others were annoyed at having to give up minor pantomime or Christmas variety show performances, Peggy was thrilled to be surrounded in the Maplin's magic once again. Especially as Spike had a funny pantomime horse costume which she was required to help out with. In Peggy's opinion, Spike was one of the finest, if not the finest, of all men. And she loved wearing silly costumes. She finished adding pears to the tree whilst happily chatting along to Spike about anything and everything. When it was done, the two headed to put the boxes into the storage cupboards.

Almost as soon as Spike and Peggy had left the Hawaiian ballroom, Bing Crosby and David Bowie could be heard across the speaker system, as Barry and Yvonne Stuart-Hargreaves began rehearsing their Peace On Earth (Little Drummer Boy) routine ready for the campers who were arriving for the festive period. They glided around the room effortlessly, their bodies close and their hearts beating as one, the turns and steps coming out easily for them. One they had practiced the routine a few times, Barry spun Yvonne outwards, which is when she caught sight of the monstrosity which had been erected close to the bar.

"Barry! What on Earth is that?" Her voice was shrill as she took in its towering form, dripping in edible outcasts from a market stall. Her husband stood behind her, placing his hands upon her waist.

"I think it is supposed to be a Christmas tree, dear," he surveyed it, and rolled his eyes "though it is a disaster of a tree, I do admit." Yvonne sniffed haughtily.

"Our chalet tree looks better than this one, even if our chalet tree is," she lowered her voice, "artificial because we are stuck at this rotten holiday camp over the festive season!" Barry rubbed her arms soothingly, and his mind wandered ever so slightly. It was very nearly Christmas, and his wife was wearing a festive ball gown which she had not worn in years, due to the lack of Christmas bookings they got. In Barry's opinion, it was the finest ball gown which Yvonne owned. Red with white glittery layers, and a cut out back which allowed him to place his hands upon her bare skin as they were dancing. Despite her ginger hair, the dress complimented her perfectly, as the paler layers gave it a much softer view on the eye, and Yvonne looked radiant in it. And he knew that she felt magnificent when she was wearing it. His hands rubbed small circles on her back, and she turned towards him, leaning herself against his shoulder, her posture still perfectly ladylike. He looked at her lips, then noticed some mistletoe had been hung over the bar. He glanced towards it and Yvonne noticed. She must have been in a good mood, because she traced a small line across his cheek towards his mouth with her forefinger. Barry decided to take the opportunity given, and dipped his head in order to be able to kiss her properly. As she stretched up, a voice was heard from the doorway.

"Well, uh… yes, yes, I see, Gladys, but one must consider what Mr Maplin has stated regarding the matter."

Yvonne sprung away from Barry immediately, her face flushing as she realised that she had nearly been caught in a public display of affection. Barry inwardly cursed Gladys Pugh, who was, at that moment, dragging Jeffrey Fairbrother into the Hawaiian ballroom in order to complain about some of the decorations, and also, Barry was willing to bet, catch him under the mistletoe which he had, moments earlier, been about to kiss his wife under. Upon seeing Barry and Yvonne, Jeffrey stopped and addressed them.

"Hello, Yvonne, Barry. What brings you here?"

"We have been practicing our festive waltz Mr Fairbrother, in order to ensure its perfection before Christmas. We were wondering if one waltz was enough though, as we have a professional Tinsel Tango routine from our competition days which we could always revive. Couldn't we, Barry?"

"Yes, dear," Barry dutifully agreed with his wife, plastering on a sarcastic smile for the Entertainments Manager and Chief Yellowcoat.

"No, Yvonne, Mr Fairbrother has allowed you one dance, and that is all-" Gladys began, before Jeffrey stopped her.

"Actually, Gladys, in this letter from Mr Maplin it mentions putting on more traditional entertainment in the afternoons in order to cut down on campers wanting second helpings of Christmas Dinner, so yes, we can have an afternoon slot of ballroom dancing." He smiled, and Yvonne nodded graciously.

"Thank you, Mr Fairbrother," Barry knew how smug Yvonne was about Jeffrey overruling Gladys, and, he had to admit, he was a little bit pleased too. At that, they left the ballroom before Gladys could say anymore to them.

Gladys Pugh played the signatory notes on the xylophone, and trilled through the microphone

"Good morning campers, hi-de-hi! And may we wish you all a very merry Christmas from everyone here at Maplin's! Today we have a fun filled programme for you! After breakfast, there will be the kiddies colouring competition, and then the Santa lookalike contest by the Olympic-sized swimming pool!" She continued on with everything that would be present throughout the day, before ending with a 'hi-de-hi!' The day went rather well, with the campers merrily joining in with the competitions which Joe Maplin had instructed for them to put on. The yellowcoats were all having a marvellous time wearing their festive headbands and flirting with the male campers, much to the disgust of Gladys, who was forever yelling at Sylvia for putting her hands in her pockets, and having shorts which were so short that you could see her lacy Christmas knickers. This continued to spur Sylvia and the others on so that Gladys would not have a stress-free Christmas.

At the staff meeting the day after, Jeffrey Fairbrother opened a letter which he had received from Joe Maplin.

"Oi, you, get a load of this festive stuff – that's the letter, not me – this Christmas thing better work as I gotta shell out for you lot. Get a Santa for Christmas. Sort it. That Punch man can do it, the layabout. Now. Joe Maplin." Jeffrey Fairbrother looked towards William Partridge, who blearily gazed up from the bottle he was sipping from to shake his head.

"Sod aoooof yer swine." He got up from his seat and staggered out of the room, as Jeffrey looked on, looking puzzled. He turned to the chief yellowcoat.

"Gladys, find Mr Partridge and give him the Father Christmas suit." Gladys immediately flushed, and giggled awkwardly.

"Oh, okay Mr Fairbrother, I shall get him to." She tottered towards the door, and turned to her yellowcoats. "Get your hands out of your pockets, Sylvia."

Two hours later, Fred Quilley was sat with William Partridge in their chalet, the latter fuming at the thought of dressing up as Father Christmas, the former trying his best to be persuasive, which basically resulted in him giving Mr Partridge an awful lot of alcohol and telling him how he would get him a bottle of whiskey for doing the deed, and appeasing the younger campers over the festive season. He had several insults hurled his way, and eventually the grumpy older entertainer walked out of the chalet, grabbing another bottle of alcohol, the Santa suit and his Mr Punch puppet.

Mr Partridge was not seen for the remainder of the camp activities over the Christmas period, and the employees of Maplin's all assumed that he had gone walkabouts and would not be returning, letting the drink consume him in a pub somewhere. On the final day, the campers had a mass Christmas dinner (with more vegetables and significantly less meat because Joe Maplin was on an economy drive disguised as a healthy eating promotion) and Rupert the pudding chef was working non-stop in order to deliver the cheapest yet most artistic Christmas puddings and fruit cakes possible. Once the meal was over and the yellowcoats had ushered the campers to the ballroom to avoid them wanting more food, Ted Bovis took to the stage to deliver the evening of comedy available, starting with his festive people on the toilet routine. The evening continued with Barry and Yvonne Stuart-Hargreaves delivering their special festive Tinsel Tango routine to the many campers who clapped at them as they swished across the dancefloor. Eventually, the evening was about to come to a close, and a special Goodnight Campers song was delivered, with the yellowcoats singing versions of Christmas songs with a Maplin's twist. As the evening was about to close, an almighty crash was heard as the entire Christmas tree fell to the floor, various pieces of fruit rolling across the floor and campers dodging them. From underneath the tree, a red hat was seen with a white bobble upon the end of it, an old man with wonky glasses wearing it. The man himself lifted an alcohol bottle above his head, and toasted the world.

"Ho de ho ho ho campers, ya filthy lot!" The man exclaimed, and the yellowcoats immediately recognised William Partridge as the source of their problems for the evening. Peggy Ollerenshaw was at the side grasping onto Spike Dixon's backside, as part of their funny pantomime horse costume. She had heard the crash, and wanted to know what was going on, but she felt it was her duty to remain clutching at the camp comic's rear end. Spike manoeuvred them forward then ducked under the tree, swooping the costume off them. Peggy still couldn't see what was happening, but, when the material was lifted, and Spike was dragging Mr Partridge away with Fred Quilley, as Ted Bovis was hastily trying to cover up what had happened with Sylvia and the other yellowcoats. Peggy couldn't help but laugh manically at the scene as she realised what was occurring before her.

When the campers had all been returned to their chalets, Peggy Ollerenshaw was still sat amongst the branches of the fallen tree, cackling horrendously as she gestured at all that was going on around her. Spike entered the Hawaiian ballroom, and sat next to her, smiling as the chalet made laughed so carelessly at the scattered fruit.

"Peggy? Mr Partridge is asleep now? What's so funny?" He asked her, wanting to understand why she found whatever it was so utterly hilarious. Tears streaming down her face, and her glasses steaming up, Peggy grinned at him, choking back her giggles.

"Oh, Spike! Don't yer see? On the last day of Christmas, Joe Maplin gave to me, A PARTRIGE IN A PEAR TREE!"

When she sang it, Spike began to laugh with her, as he realised how her dotty brain had produced one of the best puns from the visual catastrophe which had occurred.

And so, Spike and Peggy sat on the floor of the Hawaiian ballroom, in place of the Partridge that had been in the pear tree.

-finite—

(a/n – YAAAAYY I FINISHED IT IN TIME FOR CHRISTMAS! Sorry it is so cracky, but Macarons and Muffins, this is for you. Merry Christmas. Who knew I could write such a cracky fic about Maplin's holiday camp at Christmas, eh? I hope it makes you smile, at least. Ho de ho ho ho to you all!)


End file.
